Deep Breath In No Air Out
by Shaebea
Summary: Broken hearted party girl who likes cocaine just a little too much.Just a girl in a famous band who got her heart broken by no one else but just another rock-star in the making. He's just a shy,innocent boy whose rumored to be in a 'cult' and on steroids. She's anything but innocent and oblivious. Violet claims she's done with breathing, never mind love.But a wolf knows different.


_December 19, 2009_ _I remember when my life wasn't a complete mess. Hah. Who am I kidding? My life was never even close to okay. But at least I wasn't a complete and utter mess. That was, until I met him. Micheal Gordan Clifford. I know what your thinking, 'here comes some stupid preppy popular with her perfect family and classic 'I was in love with a rock star in a "boy band" that blew up world wide failed love sob story.' Not exactly, actually; Not even close. I was always the rebellious girl. Only the un-existing God knows why my 'legal' guardian Jordan wanted me. I was just a lost 15 year old girl who could sing and play anything with strings when you gave me a beat. _ _We moved from Montreal, Canada to Winnipeg, Canada just before my 16th birthday, there our 'band' was formed, me on lead guitar and back-up vocals, Braden Curtseon (my best friend) on base and lead vocals, and finally, 19 year-old Adam Berato on drums. (Adam will be a big part of the story later) But our 'band' was not the only thing that formed, I was labeled at the party girl in 'that band' of the huge school, I would constantly have guys attempt at flirting with me to get in my pants. New kids pointing me out and getting told to 'stay away from my group', we are 'bad influences'. I was going out every Friday, getting beyond drunk and being as stupid as a newly 16 year old girl could ever get. I even tried cocaine. I was lucky, I didn't like drug. But I do however, like the after effect of the high. I'm not addicted, I can go weeks at a time without the drug. But that last breath you take as the high is wearing off? That feeling alone is enough to keep me intrigued with the drug. When Braden found out, he flipped. Braden suggested that night at the dinner table, we move. So that's what happened. _ _ We moved to New York just 2 weeks before Braden's 17th birthday. The kids at that impossibly bigger high school loved my slight accent. Montreal, Canada speaks French as a big part of their culture,I spoke french daily there. (I am fluent in:three languages; Canadian English, French,and American English.) But just because it was a new school in a new country, meant nothing. The partying got worse. Surprisingly, I had yet to give up the most solid and 'holy' thing I had left._ _ That's when I met him. Micheal Clifford. Micheal moved to New York from Australia with his band '5 Seconds of Summer' but, Micheal was angry. He didn't want to be there. I could feel it. I guess that's what attracted me to him. Was his rebellious, angry attitude. Clifford was the type of boy your momma always warned you about and your daddy glared at on the streets. But I loved him. Micheal had heard about me through the most popular 'man whore' of the school, and apparently that was enough for him to be curious. We talked a lot, then we both slowly started to fall. Our 'relationship' was based off of 4 simple things: our music, parties, drugs, and later; sex. If Braden was worried before Micheal came into my life, he must have had a few strokes while I was 'out by myself'. Micheal and I snorted any pills we could get our hands on and smoked weed so often the drug was almost noneffective after the third or fourth joint of the day. I would stay at the four boys' house for days at a time, too wrapped in my 72 hour benders to think about how worried everyone else must be. Then it happened, we dried out for a few days, and then without even a good reason, Micheal took the last thing I had- and I let him. After that we stuck to only weekend benders, went to any party we heard about, and did the dirty deed anywhere we had the chance, in the janitors closet when we should have been in History, the backroom in the library, in his room, in Jordan's living room, on my bedroom floor once, even on Micheal's kitchen counter when all the boys where home. You can call me whatever you want. But at least I wasn't a cheater._ _A few months later, Micheal's band was getting ready to mover back to Australia, I knew they where moving back. But not the way I thought. Micheal started getting very physically abusive, we would have sex then he would beat me, we kissed, he would slap me. I will never forget that sting that forever lives on my face and ribs. Once I accidentally dropped a spoon and Micheal backhanded me so hard I fell to the floor, then he proceeded to call me awful names I will never repeat. Every word emphasized with a painful and strong kick. Luke came in when he heard my yelp of pain after I first hit the hard ground before Micheal's yelling got too loud and he absolutely flipped. I'll never understand WHY Luke cared about me so much. But or some reason, he did. Luke would always help me after the beatings or backhands or punches. Luck would always tell me to just leave, that I still have a chance. Yet, I kept crawling back to Clifford. No matter what words Luke preached to me,I still found myself dragged into the bathroom getting the same speech over and over, bleeding in one place or another with at least 2 bruises more that 3 times a week by Luke. Micheal and I got to my house one afternoon, after months the beatings stopped for a few weeks, but the verbal abuse didn't. My wounds had all healed and it had been 2 weeks since my last hit and it had been 5 slaps in a row to the face. At the time I had no idea why they had stopped, but I was still overly cautious around Micheal. Micheal kissed me softly for less that 2 seconds, whispered an 'I'm sorry' then was off my porch, in his car, onto an airplane. I had no idea. Micheal just left the country. Left me. Left everything we ever had. I was parting nightly, buying alcohol and drinking at home, ditching school almost everyday. I was either; beyond drunk to function, throwing things while screaming/crying, or crying so hard I would pass out. I stopped eating whatever small amounts of food I would ever eat completely, and I slowly started to just shut down and go into robot party mode. Every second of my life for a month straight I was drink. That month before I was sent to live with family in La Push, Washington is just one, bug, major, long blackout of nothing. I remember nothing of 5 whole weeks of my life that's how long my bender was. I would fall asleep and wake up beyond descriptive words of both drunk and high I was- AM a mess. That's when Jordan finally sent me to live with family. Even Jordan and Braden got sick of me. Jesus, everyone gets so sick of me. This is why my time is done. These are the events leading to my end. Leading into my dark thoughts, leading to my last breath, Or so you and I think. But I guess we will both have to find out. Huh?_ _Please buckle your seat belts and enjoy the ride-_ _Violet Myra Willow. -XoXo_


End file.
